Brothers
by Kitade Death
Summary: AU. A funny and sad, dramatic and cheerful story centered on Belphegor and his younger brother Fran. They were left behind by the entire world, until some weird silverette's appearance. Will be XS in later chapters.
1. Brothers

Hell~o boys!

My new story. I got the inspiration while reading Victor Hugo's Les Misérabes. There was that part which really made my heart melt, about two children left by their mother...

I wrote this! Enjoy and don't forget to review, please!

* * *

'But… Where's Mamma?'

A small boy – skinny, poorly dressed and barely nine – was standing in front of a semi-old house. His hair was fair and short, though long bangs were hiding his childish eyes.

The boy was called Bel.

At his side was standing another child, a bit smaller than him. That was his younger brother, Fran. At that time Fran had just reached his seventh year. He had odd green hair which had more than once attracted people's attention, mostly children of his age who found in that fact a subject of joke and bullying. So, to prevent his brother to be severely wounded by his bullies, Bel had since long learnt to stay with him in order to protect him from the older ones, like that day after school classes. The world had no pity for two children who had no father, no name, who lived with their mother only in a shanty. They had no friend at all, nor at school, nor in the neighborhood.

With time the little Fran grew to be a strange child, still and with eyes strangely placid, as if he had already seen all the misfortune in this world, that was of course false. No need to say the two boys were often rejected by the other children because of that fact, and maybe some others – who would ever understand children's own logic?

A middle-aged lady was standing in front of the house, frowning at the two kids. She sighed with nervousness.

'I told you that your mother's gone!' She half-yelled, half-sighed. 'Don't ask me where. The house has been left like this since that morning. In any case it had been ages since she last paid the rent. I was already planning to throw you out, so it's nice for me.'

What was that? _Mamma_? Gone? Bel couldn't understand it. That morning she still was with them, having breakfast and smiling like every day! Of course they were poor; as young as he was, Bel could understand that obvious reality, grown-up people's pitiless world. Yet, they were happy together! _Mamma_ always said that, even if sometimes she was crying in the kitchen, or having a very, very sad face when she was back from work, very late at night (the blonde would wait for her, as late as he could stay awake. Fran couldn't, he was too young)… But not once she had said such awful thing as leaving them behind! Never!

'You… You're lying! _Mamma_ must be there! Madam, please, you have to find her!' Bel tried desperately to convince the lady – and maybe himself. Fran was staring at the wretched street they had always lived in with empty eyes. The dreadful situation they were in didn't seem to trouble him that much.

The landlady scowled at that little rascal. How could a child like him dare tell her what to do? 'Okay, listen boys.' She folded her arms. 'Your mother is gone. I don't know where. But that sort of thing, it's just happening every day in here, you understand? I can't do anything about it. Now, go away before I seriously think about deadly clouting you!'

Then she slammed the door – that door Bel had once thought it would always be their impregnable protector.

The skinny child and his younger brother were left there, on the landing of their former house.

'Brother.' Fran finally uttered, as awaken from his slumber by the slammed of the door. 'What's happening?'

What's happening? Bel would have like someone to explain him. For a child of his age, the boy was indeed very clever; some would even call him a genius. Yet that kind of situation… How would a nine-year old child react to something like that?

'I … I don't know…' He muttered, more for himself than for Fran.

Watching right and left, Fran grabbed his brother's tiny hand. A small, fragile hand; the hand of a kid. 'Why aren't we going back home? And where's _mamma_?'

Hearing those words, Bel's heart wringed. He clenched his teeth.

'_Mamma_ … Is gone, the landlady said. This isn't our home anymore.'

'Why? That morning Mom said she's going to buy a hu~ge cake for us! Why wouldn't she buy it?'

Did that woman say that? He assumed yes, as Fran remembered. Bel couldn't remember exactly his mother talked about that. But did he care? That woman left them! She left them, alone; they didn't even have a house anymore! Nowhere to go back… Nowhere to go… What was they supposed to do henceforth? They didn't know anyone else; they didn't have another family but their mother… Friends? There was none. Or had she ever mentioned anyone close enough to them… Someone, anyone…

'Brother!' Fran's voice suddenly raised, his grip tightening.

Then Bel saw why: a group of children – maybe five or six, dark eyes and angry smiles on their lips – there or thereabouts the same age as them, were gathering in front of their house, right before them. He hadn't notice their presence before Fran called him – the reason could be seen on his brother's overall: a huge stain of mud was soiling the thin cloth.

'Hey, freaks!' One of the children – the oldest it seemed – snickered. 'That big liar of Dordoni just told us that the _puttana_ you call your mother had left you. Is that true?'

'Bo-hoo-hoo!' Another boy laughed while pretending crying. 'Poor little things! Oh, so sad!'

'Was she fed up of seeing you freaks every day?' A third said. 'I can understand: you're hideous, dude!'

'Yes, yes! Hideous! Monstrous! Awful freaks!' They all sang together.

Again. Having those stupid kids annoying them like that was a common thing for the two brothers – eternal fate of marginal people. The only solution they found to it was staying together, no matter what, and ignoring the mockery. And at that moment, more than ever, they had to stay together. Bel could endure their stupidity, but he was afraid for Fran. Instinctively the blonde pulled his brother behind him.

A kid threw mud at them. 'Tell something, freaks! What's with you! Wanna cry 'cause _Mamma_ isn't there anymore?'

Burst of laughs from the others.

'Make them cry! Make them cry!'

'I think the older's gonna burst! Do you see it? Do you see it?'

'You wanna fight, freak? Go cut you stupid hair before! Ugly monster!'

'Ugly monster! Ugly monster!'

The bullying had last for about ten minutes. People were passing by, watching at the kids as if that was some new kind of play, then went on.

'Ah! Ah! Ah!' The first kid cruelly laughed. 'He's gonna cry! Keep on, guys! He's gonna- _A dull sound._ Ouch!'

He fell on his knees, rubbing hurtfully at his head as if something had just hit it.

'Vitto? What's wrong wi- _Another dull sound_. Ouch!'

The second boy fell with the same fashion as his older.

'Hey! Someone's throwing stones at us!' Another one bellowed. Right after they were all watching at every sides of the street for the damned brat who had done that to their friends.

'Get out from your hole, _bastardo_!' The first boy roared, back on his feet. 'Or are you too a coward of a man to face your opponents before attacking them?'

A ferric laugh burst in the middle of nowhere, tearing the stillness where the children were left in after that unexpected assault. And then he appeared from his hiding-place, behind a corner. Him, a boy older than Bel – perhaps twelve or thirteen, the blonde couldn't exactly say as the boy was really lean, more than the bullies; him, his alert legs drawing him nearer end nearer to the group; him, his blazing spiky hair shining in the setting sun's last ray (but it was actually silvery, almost white, as Bel could see it when he was near enough), framing his proud and childlike features yet distorted by a deep scowl and a wicked grin showing shining teeth. It was the first time Bel saw that boy in their district – he sure he was, such a freak couldn't go unnoticed. The boy was waving a sword with his left hand, but it was still sheathed in its cover.

When he saw the bewildered/wrathful faces of the bullies, the silver head laughed – a loud, mocking laugh, which was passing himself off more as an anime's bad guy rather than the hero.

'Voooi! Coward, you say?' He shouted. His voice was as sharp as a saw, his shark-like fangs bearing the comparison. 'Little trash. You sure are one to talk! Don't you feel the least ashamed assaulting two brats half your height with your brainless friends?'

More or less back from their first amazement, the bullies were eyeing dangerously the new comer.

'And what the hell is your name?' The first bully, assumedly the leader, raised and pointed a grubby thumb to his chest. 'Mine is Vittorio Mancinelli, son of Umberto Mancinelli!' His chest was about to burst, Bel noted. For the kid, it was actually a great pride for him to tell to everyone that his father was the son of the local upholsterer. Nevertheless, it had no effect on the stranger.

The silverette's grin widened. He leaned on his sword, almost as tall as him.

'Voi. I'm Superbi Squalo, son of no one, and the guy who's going to kick your sorry asses off, trashes.'

* * *

That day, Superbi Squalo had woken up with a hellish stiff neck. Maybe it was due to his damn pillow, as hard as a stack of rocks, or maybe it was due to the fact that he could simply not sleep in a normal position, or maybe both. However it didn't avert the fact that he woke up that morning on the floor of his minuscule, miserable flat, his bed upside down, and a fucking knot in his back – word for word.

To divert himself from the pain, he went for a walk. Mid-afternoon he still was walking in the populous streets, elbowing his way in the compact crowd. The passers-by were watching at the twelve years old boy with angry looks, glaring at his ragged clothes and the sheathed sword in his hand (sword that had never left him for years). Squalo had since long got accustomed to arrogant strangers looking down at him as if he was the scum of the earth. He didn't care. For him they were anything more than trashes, scraps soiling his landscape that should just go die already.

Yet the boy wasn't sour. His life wasn't a prince's one-like, but that was his life – his rules, his freedom, his pride – and he needed no more.

Gurgling sounds in his stomach. Now he thinks about it, he hadn't eaten anything since last night. That wasn't for want of appetite, but this month's budget went unexpectedly short. Well, it was a common occurrence. He would have to see if they had some extra job for him to do at the railways.

'Ah. But it's already evening. Is it even possible to… Mmh?'

That was odd. He had never crossed that town's area before. Squalo wasn't afraid (he's never afraid!) but he wasn't sure of the way he had to take to go back at the main streets. The district was deplorable: antic houses with faded yellow walls falling into disrepair where packs of families still were living in. There were old women with sad faces, as yellow as the walls, sitting on the landing, talking in an idle moment, their all life. Dirty children were running everywhere, playing straight in the mud, in an upsetting reek in the air; a scrawny, filthy, mangy dog was rummaging in a mount of garbage, about to give up the ghost …

"Ugh! That place is depressing. No way am I staying here." The boy thought. He was about to leave when he heard some high-pitched cries coming from behind one of those indistinguishable buildings. They were like children's. Squalo gave an ear.

'… Hideous! Monstrous! Awful freaks!' He could hear.

Intrigued, the silverette followed them until he fell on the previous scene. It wasn't a very funny scene – six brats tormenting two others, almost babies (but he actually found their look quiet odd: the bigger had bangs hiding completely his eyes and the smaller green hair); it only added to all the depressing effect of the place. The swordsman-to-be boy decided the view wasn't worth his time, he turned tails. Behind cruel laughs still were echoing.

'…Wanna cry 'cause _Mamma_ isn't there anymore? ...'

Squalo sighed. Really, weren't there any grown asses people to check on their own children? The boy was no hero, no Superman or the nice guy from that TV show, the big brother. He kept on walking.

'…I think the older's gonna burst! …'

How stupid. Stupid, childish, puerile fights…

'… Ugly monster! Ugly monster! ...'

Finally he stopped.

'Voi! You asked for it, brats!' Squalo roared to himself. Turning back to the previous spot, he picked up a stone on the ground and, lightly throwing it in the air, he hit it hard with his sheathed sword, in the same way a baseball player would hit a homerun. '_Tok_!' The stone went directly on the bullying leader's head.

'Ouch!' He could hear from the wounded kid. Without waiting, he took another rock and with the same swift move, it went on the back of the second's head. 'Ouch!'

The boy smirked at his throw's accuracy, spoiling himself with the results. After all, being Batman wasn't that bad, Squalo thought. The moment was the best for a dramatic entrance. Baring his teeth and scowling even more, he was ready for his one man show.

* * *

TBC


	2. Friends

Wow it has been sooo long, ne? No excuse. Sorry. Life is a bitch. I wish that you, dear reader, still hadn't got fed up of my poor story... So BROTHERS chapter 2, begin!

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'Voi. I'm Superbi Squalo, son of no one, and the guy who's going to kick your sorry asses off, trashes.' The silverette's loud voice resounded violently in Bel's ears. The other children stayed agape, just before bursting in laugh.

'Ah! Ah! Look at that idiot! Who the hell is he kidding?' The leader Vittorio panted.

'This one really is stupid.' Fran muttered behind his brother.

'How can such idiots even exist?'

'_Ma dai ! Che deficiente_!'

'He's as crazy as he's idiot!'

Vitto was almost bending forward, so much he was laughing his ass off. The others were snickering in unison, still awkward about whether they should take the new comer seriously or treat him like a madman.

'Ah ah ah...' The silver-haired boy chuckled bitterly. Squalo though wasn't happy. While the other brats were giggling like turkey-cocks, he slid to the first kid to his right. The latter didn't even have time to look back before the sheath made contact with the back of his head.

'Ouch!' And he fell on the ground. Another one followed, then another after that one. Perhaps at that time the hits were a bit more hurtful, because the children didn't get up straightaway. The all thing happened in less than five seconds, so fast that the head was still laughing when the last one of his friends fell down. He didn't look rather glad when he saw that he had no allies anymore.

'Vooooi, so what were we talking about, trash?' The shark-like teen grinned at the bully. He was cornered, but at the same time he kept on frowning angrily at the silver head.

'How did you… you fucker! You're just a bastard… And why are you here in the first place? They have nothing to do with you!' The head bully spat, pointing at the two forgotten brothers.

'Ha! I don't give a flying fuck about those brats.' Squalo neared dangerously the unsteady Mancinelli kiddo and aimed at him with his sheathed sword. They were at matching height. 'It's only that scums like you disgust me to no hell.'

The applicant-swordsman was glaring. He waved swiftly his sword above his head, ready to give the final blow. In only one second the covered blade cut the air on top of the two teens' head in a dramatic way, ready to fall down on the bully's head… But then it stopped, one inch from Vitto's cheek. The latter, seeing that the hit didn't come, sighed heavily with relief – he hadn't noticed he was that edgy. But sure he had been since he literally fell on his back, his legs way too shaking to support him anymore. Squalo, looking down on him, laughed haughtily at his frightened form.

'I'll… I'll remember that, you bastard…' He bit at his lower lip. After that, seeing that behind the shark his friends were slowly recovering from their faint, he got up and slowly moved away. 'I'll make you pay for this…'

It made Squalo laugh louder.

'Ah! Ah! Fucking woozy brats! Come back when you can at least stand upright in front of me!'

They all ran away.

"Che. Surely back to their mama's apron-strings." Squalo thought to himself. A light applause suddenly came from beside him, slightly startling him. He looked aside to notice that the previous children still were there. It was the smaller one – the one with green hair – who was applauding monotonously.

'Er…' Bel started, pretty unsure. 'Thank you for helping us.'

The silverette blinked. 'Voi. I didn't do that for you, kids. They were noisy. That's all.'

Bel however didn't give in. As a matter of fact, that silver-haired boy was the first person apart from their _mother_ who hadn't showed them ill feeling. Yet, he still was a stranger. The blonde didn't know how to deal with strangers. He kept on staring down, hands awkwardly crumpling the tail of his overall.

Witnessing the kid's embarrassment, Squalo frowned uneasily. That one, too, wasn't comfortable with people showing him gratitude. Most of time they would tell him to shut his loud mouth, look at them less angrily, and for-God's-sake-stop yelling-at-the-first-words-they-would-say. Actually he wasn't even used to lend a hand in a dash of humanity. The silverette couldn't help but feel a ball of enjoyment rolling in his stomach.

'Well… It was nothing. Farewell, boys.' He muttered before turning back, ready to resume on what he had been doing previous to that skirmish : that was annoying some acquaintance of him at the railways for the sake of the next day's lunch.

Squalo turned tail and glanced warily at the old houses surrounding him. Let's remind the reader that the teen was still lost. It seemed that Bel noticed his embarrassment (he was standing motionless, not making one move) as he raised a childish voice.

'Maybe… You're lost?'

'Vooi! I'm not fucking lost!' Came the deafening answer from a stiffened silverette. 'I can find my way back! I just need time…' The loudness yet didn't bother the blonde.

'I can show you the way to the main street.'

'Ah.'

Looks like that time he had to sit down on his damn pride, Squalo thought.

'This would be… Hum… helpful.'

Bel's heart jumped (it wasn't quite visible, with all the hair hinding half of his face). That was certainly the first positive interaction the brothers had with someone else since years. He grabbed at Fran's tiny hand and headed to the waiting shark. The sky had grown darker.

'Where were you going?' Bel asked as they were walking side by side, with the green-haired kid stuck to him.

'Railways. Wonder if I can get something. It's already pretty late.'

'Get what?'

'Job… Voooi! Why are you asking all those questions? That's boring!'

'I've just asked two things…'

'… Che. Whatever.'

They continued chatting like that until they reached the avenue's crowded sidewalk. It didn't take. They were so engrossed with their conversation (it wasn't principally a conversation; mostly the same things as above) that none of them noticed that they had been tagging along to the station. After all, it wasn't as if someone was specially waiting any one of them.

The place was almost void of people when they got there. Among the few railwaymen still remaining, Squalo spotted the one he was looking for, at the other side of the platform. That was a mid-aged man with clear hair and a fairly muscular body.

'Voooi! Iemitsu! Where is everyone?' The silverette shouted at him.

'Don't "voi" me like that, it's deafening!' Iemitsu frowned in a comical way. 'Of course, they're gone! The day's already over.'

Squalo che-ed. He had gone all that way (okay, it wasn't _that_ far) and lost his time for nothing. He would have rather practiced his sword instead.

'And tomorrow?'

'This, I don't know.' The older man shrugged. 'Hey, brat, if you really want to work that much then stop fooling around and settle here already!'

'Ha! I've better things to do with my time, ol'man.'

'I'm not old!' Iemitsu barked at the teen. 'Apologize right now, you stupid brat.'

'In your dreams, ol'man.' Squalo waved a hand. 'So I'll be back tomorrow. Be sure there'll be something for me!'

He then turned his back to the fuming railwayman who was still lecturing him about his lack of seriousness, his stupid sword hobby, etc. etc. Bel and Fran were following him like his shadow (practically they were his shadow; he wasn't even aware of their presence).

Once they got out, the first thing Squalo noted was his hungry stomach grunting with dissatisfaction.

'Now, what am I supposed to do… Guess all I can do is go back ho- Ah? Why are _you_ still here?' He inquired when at last he caught sight of the two children.

To that, Bel found nothing to reply. They had followed him unconsciously, just like magpies trailing after the first shining stuff. And how was he supposed to explain to a complete stranger that they had no family, no home anymore? The all situation was overwhelming him. So the two kids just stood, still and uneasily, in front of the silver head.

'Mama's gone.' Fran whispered drearily, as if the problem didn't interest him.

Squalo ruffled his spiky hair with one hand. Seriously, what was he supposed to do? He somehow understood in what kind of situation the kids were, he sympathized with them. But he, himself, had some urgent troubles he had to solve. To load himself with two brats would never arrange his case…

'What about dropping at my home for tonight?' The words came out from his mouth without the teen even knowing it.

'Ah?'

Hearing that, Bel first couldn't believe his ears. Why would someone he had just known for two hours really give two kids a hand in that moment? Neither the landlady, neither the neighbors did; and they'd known the kids for ages.

'Perv-' Fran started to mutter before being hushed by his brother. Fortunately the silver head hadn't heard him.

'Voooi, don't make me say it twice. You have nowhere to go, don't you?'

'That's… true.'

The blonde kid didn't say anything else, before returning to his quietness. The silence was tiresome for the swordsman-to-be teen, and he didn't like that at all.

'Voooi! Stop doing that and walk!' He said at last, while pushing the children ahead.

'We are bothering you?'

Squalo's apartment was built in an attic. The tiny room was bathed in darkness, but if there had been daylight Bel would have noticed in what kind of shambles Squalo was living. In the half-light, he could clearly distinguish the undone bed with mounts and mounts of useless things on it – blankets, clothes, pillows, and more unknown stuffs. Apart from the bed (which was already taking the most of the space with everything overflowing from it) there were only a TV and an used desk.

'You're living alone?' Fran asked.

'Yeah. Whatsoever.' The silverette turned the light on, threw his keys in a corner and pointed at the immense formless pile. 'Ahem. The bed is somewhere under. Use it.'

Fran grimaced.

'It's okay.' Bel said before pulling at the bedspread. Everything fell on the ground. 'Where are you sleeping?'

Squalo pulled at a blanket and spread it on the floor. He shrugged.

'I'll sleep here. It's fine. In the end I almost always end my nights down here.'

The green-haired child gave him a pillow (the most cumbersome one) and got on, right away followed by the blonde. 'Well then ... Goodnight?'

'Aa.' The silverette hauled a blanket to him and slumped on his pillow.

The light was switched off. Once more, the room was plunged into dimness. The light from a lamp post only, filtered by a curtain-less window, was lightening the space. Squalo was fast asleep. Bel, though, couldn't. He was curling up on himself, Fran was still sticking against him, sound asleep. The bed surely was small, but it was enough for both of them.

The boy was thinking.

So, what should he do starting from now? For that night, they were safe. But tomorrow?... His mind was running wildly. Not once in his life he had to take care of himself. Even in the downiest part of their previous life, not once had they been faced to such extremity. Suddenly, he strangely felt tired and distracted. His eyelids were tickling, his chin trembled. Soon hot beads of tears went flowing from his veiled eyes. Bel cried silently, cried, cried for a long time. It was as if the kid was trying to evacuate all the pain in his little body with those tears.

It really was afflicting, the sad scene of a nine-year old child giving way to all his sadness: sadness of losing his mother, sadness of losing his home, sadness of losing his daily life, as insignificant as it could be.

He shuddered. Luckily for him, it was hardly noticeable; his brother didn't wake up. Yet Squalo heard him.

'Voi.' The silver-haired called without moving from his place. 'Kiddo, you're still awake?'

'Mmh.'

None of them could see the other's face: Bel watching at the wall and Squalo the opposite one.

'What are you thinking about?'

'Mmh.'

'… You're not willing to talk, are ya?'

Awkward silent.

Squalo was perplexed. He truly, truly wasn't used with that. He had been a child at a complete loss too… Long, long ago. So long that he didn't remember how he had done back then. But those ones weren't like him.

He rolled on himself to watch at the kids.

'You should sleep. Kids shouldn't think about things too big for them.'

'You're a kid, too.' Fran's voice rose unexpectedly.

'Shut up, brat.' Squalo grunted. 'Just why can't you two sleep like normal people? I've something to do tomorrow.'

'I'm hungry.' The green-haired boy stated.

'I'm hungry too, but I'm not whining because of this.'

'You're whining right now.' Bel said sarcastically.

'Shut it I said! Why the hell did I pick up damn brats?... As if I didn't have anything else… What the?...' The silverette raised and cursed when he felt something sliding under his blanket. That was Bel. Fran, as always, was tagging along. The kids settled beside him.

'Sorry for the intrusion.'

Squalo was making a face; certainly the angrier he had made for his entire life. With three of them on the floor, it was the same thing as if they had stayed on the small bed.

'Che.' The silver-head finally gave up. 'I agree to that because it's only for this night. And I don't want anyone to remind me of this tomorrow!'

He went to the futon again, grumbling: "Stupid brats – I'm not a fucking babysitter – how did things become like that…" And others things you don't want to hear, in actual fact.

Apart from that the night went on peacefully.

* * *

**_Che deficiente_**: what a moron


End file.
